


ready or not, here we go anyway

by suzukiblu



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Darcy Lewis, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Darcy Lewis can't lose, Established Relationship, F/M, Fantasy Gender Roles, Fuck Yeah Female Alphas, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Nesting, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Omega Bucky Barnes, Polyamory, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzukiblu/pseuds/suzukiblu
Summary: "Uh," Darcy says, staring at the upended living room. All the furniture is stripped bare, the cushions missing, and there's random blankets and pillows dumped everywhere. It is super, super weird. "What, if I may, the hell?"
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 30
Kudos: 623





	ready or not, here we go anyway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zephrbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephrbabe/gifts).



> Full disclosure, this was mainly written for zephrbabe, but also a tiiiny bit for Rainne because zephrbabe wanted Wintershieldshock A/B/O nesting and in the brainstorming process I realized that I had the scant beginnings of an old unfinished fic-for-Rainne that fit that criteria pretty closely, soooo a few edits, minor changes, and another five thousand words later . . .

Darcy and Steve meet up after her morning emergency computer repairs and his morning training and eat lunch together in the lounge. He’s freshly showered, which is a terrible waste; Steve’s pheromones are excruciatingly subtle, especially for an alpha, and most of the time his baseline scent is barely more than a faint tease. Darcy’s got a good sense of smell, but she’s lucky to get more than the slightest sniff off him outside of workout days, national emergencies, or direct attacks on the Avengers compound. 

Workout days are preferable, obviously, but at this point she’ll take what she can get. 

Well. There is _one_ other way to get a good whiff of his pheromones, she privately amends as Steve leans forward to reach for a water bottle on the far side of the table, unselfconsciously baring the still-damp back of his neck in the process. She knows the gesture’s not a deliberate tease—Steve Rogers doesn’t tease, Steve Rogers fucking _pounces_ —but the last time she saw the back of his neck while he was reaching across a table, it was because he was bent over the coffee table in his on-base apartment all stretched-out and slicked-up and ready for her knot. 

Sue her, okay? She’s not the type of alpha to get obsessed with getting her clit wet or the knot always being endgame, especially with another alpha and especially with as much as she dislikes getting penetrated herself, but Steve _loves_ being knotted, he is all about it. It’s just he only lets himself actually _have_ it on the very, very rare occasions that he’s not on call for saving the world duty. They’ve gotten to do it maybe half a dozen times since she started dating him and Bucky, which is frankly one of the great tragedies of Darcy’s sex life, because Steve’s gorgeously tight ass feels _exactly_ as good as it looks and his body is soft-skinned and strong-muscled and runs hot as hell, and when he feels safe enough to let her inside it, to let them both be that vulnerable, when he’s that certain and secure—

Yeah, actually “hot as hell” doesn’t even _begin_ to cover that experience. 

So she lets her eyes trail up the back of his neck and lets herself indulge in a quick little dirty fantasy where maybe instead of sitting back down in his seat Steve might brace himself over the table with one hand and reach back to tug down the waistband of his sweats with the other and tell her that he slicked himself up for her in the shower and locked the door of the lounge behind him when he came in and _you wanna do something about that, alpha?_

Or he could just straddle her lap and let her feel him up, maybe. Darcy’s easily satisfied. 

Steve sits back down and chugs the water bottle with impressive efficiency, not bothering to stop to breathe in the process. Darcy’s eyes glaze over a little. 

“You done?” he asks after wiping his mouth off, glancing down at the half-eaten sandwich she’s completely forgotten on the table. 

“Sure,” she agrees anyway, because as much fun as sitting around having sex fantasies about Steve is, she knows as soon as they’re done—

“Think we can get away with checking up on Bucky?” Steve asks, his eyes sliding speculatively to the clock. 

“Absolutely,” Darcy says immediately, already gathering up her leftovers to shove back into the fridge for later. Worst case scenario, he’ll hiss at them a bit. And _maybe_ throw some pillows, and then bitch until they bring said pillows back, and then bitch _more_ until they leave, which as a possibility is admittedly is a lot closer to his current MO. Meaning it’s already happened twice this week. Well—okay, three times, if the slipper incident counts. 

So they’re kind of hopeless, maybe. 

Darcy and Steve clean up and head out, not bothering with any more of the small talk they spent lunch on. They both know it was really just a time-killer until it was late enough to plausibly check up on Bucky, who starts throwing _much_ bigger pillows if they show up more than once every four hours. Even that’s kind of pushing it, honestly. 

Darcy wishes he weren’t chasing them off all the time right now. Darcy wishes he’d let them in and let them all _over_ him, let them eat him out just like he likes and _fuck_ him just like he likes and then eat him out again after. Two weeks ago his favorite thing was getting both of them in him as many times a day as possible; lately he barely wants to _look_ at them. He hasn’t dumped either of them or told them what’s wrong, and she understands that a guy in his position is going to have issues sometimes, but . . . 

It’s a little— _constricting_ , Darcy’s gonna say. There was definitely some mental whiplash involved. 

God, _so_ much mental whiplash. Just . . . so much. 

“Actually, wait, maybe we should get each other off first,” she realizes, wincing slightly. _Steve_ can ignore her pheromones being all riled up and repressed well enough to not even notice when she’s thinking dirty thoughts about him, but Steve’s not an omega. Bucky’s going to be twice as likely to throw them out if she comes over horny and reeking of sexual frustration. 

“This what they mean when they talk about the romance being dead?” Steve asks, giving her a deadpan look. Darcy flushes. 

“Hey, valid concern!” she protests. “Also, I’ll bet fifty bucks right now that you promised _somebody_ in this place you’d do something for them right after we see Bucky and I’m on star-watching duty with Jane all night tonight, which means this is our last chance to get in each other’s pants today.” 

“. . . okay, fair point,” Steve says, wincing. “I _did_ tell Sam I’d spot him in the gym. And Wanda that I’d help her with her mission report. And Vision that—yeah. Yeah. Definitely a fair point.” 

“Uh- _huh_ ,” Darcy says, shooting him a pointed look. There’s probably something for Rhodey and Natasha on that list, too, or he would’ve just finished up with Vision. Possibly even Tony is on the list, God forbid. “See? See how smart I am? Aren’t you so lucky I’m so smart?” 

“Darcy,” Steve murmurs lowly, crowding in against her and tipping her head back to kiss her, which is a _total_ copout answer. And she will totally call him on that later, but not right now, because right now is kissing time. Every now and then Steve’ll act like he’s forgotten she’s another alpha and treat her more like a beta or omega, but she doesn’t really mind; nothing wrong with getting a little coddling every now and then. And he lets her coddle him back, at least as much as he lets anyone do it. 

Honestly, though, sometimes it’s just funny. 

“Nerd,” Darcy says, grinning against his mouth. 

“Pick a door,” Steve says, and she laughs and pushes him back against the wall. It’s easy—super-soldier or not, all she has to do is put a little pressure on his chest and he goes right with it. His ass hits the wall and her breasts hit his ribs and they kiss again, urgent and insistent. Darcy likes taking her time as much as the next alpha, but the more time they take the less time they’re gonna have to see Bucky before “leader of the Avengers”/”intern to rock star physicist” duties kick in again. 

So yeah, obviously they will _not_ be taking their time here. 

Darcy gropes for the nearest doorknob without breaking the kiss and Steve keeps kissing back and makes soft, stuttered little sounds into her mouth—noises he makes just with her, and which she can only assume are his best attempts at sounding omega-sweet _for_ her. They are quite possibly her all-time favorite Steve noises for that reason alone, not even counting how they _sound_. 

Because they sound really good. Like, if there was any doubt of that—yeah, no. They sound _really good_. 

Darcy’s groping hand finds a doorknob and the door it’s attached to swings opens, and she and Steve stumble right through together. He makes another one of those _noises_ and she pushes up on her toes and _bless_ this entire hallway, seriously, this entire hallway and all these superfluous rooms no one is ever in because God and Howard Stark love her, apparently, apparently just because that. 

Basically she picked the right spot for a spontaneous sex date, is what she’s saying here. 

They kiss. Darcy pushes her hands under Steve’s shirt and he shudders, soft and pliant under them for a moment before reasserting himself, kissing her harder and grabbing her hips tight. He’s so damn _sweet_ sometimes. 

“You know, you could be wearing a little less,” she suggests, smiling up at him slyly and giving the bottom of his shirt a meaningful tug. Part of her wants to just shove down both their jeans and take her clit and his cock in hand for the quickest and dirtiest quick and dirty possible, but the _rest_ of her isn’t stupid enough to miss out on an excuse to get an unobstructed view of Steve Rogers’s naked torso. Like—really, nowhere _near_ that stupid. 

“Look who’s talking,” Steve says, smiling back crookedly. He doesn’t even check her out as he says it, though; he’s so _funny_. Way more reserved in bed than her or Bucky even though he’s an alpha, but still so damn direct about things. Darcy _adores_ it. 

Possibly also him, but that’s a “feelings” word and feelings words are tricky business, okay? Darcy will make Steve and Bucky both all the playlists they could ever listen to and keep them in Pop-Tarts and coffee for life and lavish them with slightly sardonic praise at the drop of a hat both in and out of bed, but as far as she’s concerned feelings words are awkward all around and are just asking for trouble. Fortunately Steve and Bucky seem to agree most of the time, so that’s been working out. 

Um. Mostly. 

. . . Bucky’s been throwing a _lot_ of pillows the past couple weeks, honestly. 

“I got you,” Darcy says with slightly forced breeziness, dragging Steve’s shirt up and rumbling in pleasure as he steps back just enough to help her get him out of it. Before she even drops it he’s going for hers, and she laughs delightedly and goes for his pants, because _obviously_ she does. Steve ducks his head and huffs breathlessly against her temple, and her shirt hits the floor with his about the same time she gets his sweats and underwear down around his thighs to free his already-straining cock—he always gets riled up faster than her, even when she’s _already_ riled up. It’s pretty great. 

She’d strip him completely and appreciate him like he deserves, but she wasn’t kidding about the time limit. This is gonna have to do. 

“Lemme at you, babe,” Darcy croons, pushing him back against the door and hitting her knees. He’s already flushed, barely breathing even though she’s barely done more than kiss and feel him up a bit. It’s another one of those things she loves. 

_“Darcy,”_ Steve murmurs back roughly, voice low. Darcy flashes him a grin and then drags her tongue up his cock. He just showered, so she could eat him out—would happily eat him out, in fact—but Steve’s always preferred blowjobs. She’s of the same mind herself when it’s the other way around, so she’s all for it. 

She wraps a hand around his knot and gives it a little squeeze, guiding the head of his cock into her mouth to suck and immediately getting a very gratifying full-body jerk in response. Steve’s head drops back and he gasps, hands flattening against the door by his hips. Darcy wishes he’d grab onto her a little more often, but he worries about it sometimes and she gets why, obviously, with the super-soldier strength and all, so she just puts her free hand over the back of one of his and rolls her tongue up under the head of his cock. He shudders under her touch, shoulders digging into the door, and she sucks harder and pushes her mouth down around him. 

“Darcy,” Steve breathes again, still not putting his hands on her, and Darcy squeezes the back of his hand and hums around him. He pushes back tighter against the door and she moves her mouth over his cock knowing he won’t do it for himself—Steve can hardly ever be coaxed into just _taking_ , no matter how much he might want to. Darcy doesn’t mind; it’s just another thing that makes him sweet, as far as she’s concerned. 

She threads their fingers together and swallows him down as far as she can without taking his knot, Steve shuddering harder and harder and holding himself painfully, gorgeously still under her mouth, and he comes not much longer after that on a startled little gasp and almost entirely without warning, just the way she likes. Darcy works him through the aftershocks and keeps a tight grip on his knot, neatly licking up the come that didn’t go right down her throat—alphas come messy, but she’s used to it—and Steve hisses very softly through his teeth and keeps holding himself just as near-perfectly still as before. 

He’s so ridiculous. Darcy _loves_ it. 

Like—drastically loves it. Almost as much as she loves the sight of her lipstick on his cock, does she love it. 

“You taste so _good_ ,” she rumbles contentedly, swiping her thumb across the corner of her mouth reflexively. 

“Darcy,” Steve sighs, running a hand through her hair, _finally_. She pushes into it. “You’re good at that.” 

“I know,” she says, amused. She gives his knot a little squeeze, and he hisses through his teeth. She licks up the last traces of come he’s leaked all over her hand, then grins up at him. He pulls his sweats back up with a stifled groan, and she regretfully tucks him back into them for him. Shame, really; she always misses his cock when it’s gone. 

“I want to touch you,” Steve says. Darcy stands up with a smirk. 

“Well, who’s stopping you?” she says, and he wraps his arms around her and kisses her again. She kisses back hungrily, and moans happily into his mouth as his big hands run over her body and then pick her up to pin her against the door. 

Darcy’s met a lot of people who can’t understand why she’s with partners so much bigger than her, all of them sure it must make her feel like less of an alpha, but those people are all stupid and _wrong_. And that’s their problem, of course, not hers. 

“ _There_ we go, soldier,” she says, and Steve kisses her harder, pinning her tighter to the door. It is goddamn _delightful_. “Oh, _oh_ —” 

“You smell so good,” Steve says, burying his face in her shoulder. Darcy wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and _grinds_ against him, her clit already aching with need. Anyone who ever compared a male alpha’s knot to a female alpha’s and expected any less greedy need out of it has _not_ been introduced to Darcy, and definitely not been introduced to either of her extremely attractive datemates and just what they do to her. 

“Mmm, you too,” she murmurs with a blissful sigh, because he does—much stronger than usual, and sweet for an alpha, and worth licking up every last drop of. “Oh, come on, _touch_ me.” 

“That’s all I want to do,” Steve says. He pushes his hands into the back of her pants and squeezes, and she grinds tighter against his stomach with a moan. 

_“Tease,”_ Darcy accuses, and Steve huffs out a quiet laugh. 

“I can’t take my time a little?” he says. 

“We have places to be,” she reminds him wryly, tweaking his nose. “Please feel free to remember that approach for later, though, I am _all_ for that happening later. Tomorrow night? You’re not busy tomorrow night, right?” 

“I actually have no idea,” Steve says, which . . . fair enough, really. Avenging is a busy life. 

“Then we definitely need to pick up the pace here,” Darcy says, wrapping her arms around his neck again and giving him another kiss. Steve kisses her back for a moment, then gets a hand between them and tugs open her jeans. Her clit springs right up, eager for attention, and he wraps a hand around it to stroke. “Oh, you’re gonna make a _mess_ of us, baby.” 

“I don’t care,” Steve says, and Darcy really can’t argue with that. He jacks her off with practiced ease just the way she likes and she groans appreciatively, tightening her grip on him. He presses a sweet little kiss behind her ear, and she inhales raggedly. 

“Don’t stop,” she says, and Steve nuzzles in behind her ear and strokes her even faster. Darcy bites her lip, moving into it the best she can. He’s going to make her come all over them if he’s not careful, but she really cannot bring herself to care at all. Just . . . not even a little bit, no. 

God, he feels so _good_. Steve is just a goddamn _gift_. Darcy wants to touch him everywhere and fuck his mouth and fuck his _ass_ and fill him up with her knot, but now is obviously not the time for that. She’d say that was unfortunate, but she’s not exactly complaining about the current situation, so . . . 

“Ah, _fuck_ ,” she breathes, and Steve tightens his hand around her clit and strokes down over her knot and she _groans_. 

She does, in fact, come all over them. She’d like to know who wouldn’t, under the circumstances. Steve at least manages to keep it off their clothes, bless him, but the stripes of her come over his stomach are certainly a sight. 

"Not bad," she says, grinning languidly at Steve as he lets her down and very thoughtfully cleans up the mess they just made, licking his fingers clean very attractively, although probably not intentionally that attractively. He never seems to realize how good he looks. "Mmm, come here often, handsome?” 

"Only when you're around," Steve says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Darcy is unreasonably touched, which is kind of dangerous. Or very dangerous, probably. 

"Aren't you sweet," she says as lightly as she can, fixing the front of her jeans. Steve just kisses her again, and of course she kisses back. It's a good idea. Much better than accidentally saying anything weird to him. 

They keep kissing until they both remember the time crunch they're under, and then they stop and smile at each other wryly. They get their shirts back on and give each other a last going over before they head back out into the hall, and they look pretty presentable, Darcy thinks, though obviously they reek of sex. They should maybe detour to the showers, but that's not exactly subtler, really. Probably Steve would want to if they weren't about to go see Bucky, and she's sure he will before he goes and sees the others. Really, she's still amazed he's willing to smell like this even around _her_ , sometimes. 

She definitely does not want to think too hard about how that makes her feel, she thinks. 

"We should've brought him something," Steve says as they approach Bucky's suite, which is pretty deep in the complex. Darcy assumes it makes him feel safer, all things considered, but she's never actually asked. That's pretty invasive, as a question. Datemates or not, she isn't assuming Bucky wants to talk about that kind of thing with her. Or ever. 

"That is a really good idea that you are having way too late, baby," she says, checking the time on her phone. They really don't have that long here, knowing Steve's usual schedule and also Jane's and also how much time they just spent on each other. For the moment, though . . . "Let's put a pin in that for next time, yeah?" 

"Yeah," Steve says, and then they're outside Bucky's door and Darcy knocks before Steve can open it. Steve and Bucky just walk into each other's places like it's nothing all the time, but she is not necessarily included in that kind of thing and isn't going to assume she is. 

She's not sure she'd want them walking into her place all the time either, so . . . 

There's a lot of history between Steve and Bucky, and Darcy is not a part of it. She's okay with that, really, but that doesn't mean she's not aware of it. They can do things to each other that she wouldn't be able to, that's all, and some things she wouldn’t even want to. 

Maybe someday, she thinks, then immediately banishes that line of thought. That is . . . a _lot_ , as a line of thought. A lot to want, and a lot more to earn. 

She kind of wants to, honestly. It’s very . . . it’s a lot, yeah, but the temptation is still there. 

Bucky opens the door, looking irritated. 

"What?" he says tersely. Well, his recent mood's clearly not improved. 

"Well, we like you and wanted to see you," Darcy says. "So whatever that is." 

"You smell like sex," Bucky says. 

"We'd have invited you, but you know . . . everything lately," Darcy says with a shrug. She isn't one to tiptoe around this kind of thing. 

"You feel alright today or you want us to back off?" Steve says, because the man is also unsubtle as hell and a literal battering ram. Probably they both are, really. 

"You’ve got shit to do," Bucky says, his expression thawing slightly. He looks really good, Darcy can't help but notice. His hair is loose and he's wearing sweatpants and a soft-looking t-shirt and he's barefoot, which would be a surprisingly attractive combination on him, except she has yet to find any _unattractive_ combinations on Bucky so there's really no surprise. 

"I mean, there's still time in the day to come and see you, that's still very much a thing," she says. "Unless _you_ have shit to do? Because we can fuck off, like Steve said." 

"No," Bucky says, looking . . . hesitant, weirdly. "You should come in." 

Should? 

"Okay, that's weird and worrying phrasing, but I've yet to turn down an invitation into your den, so . . ." Darcy shrugs. Bucky looks at her strangely, then steps back from the door. She looks at Steve, but he's already walking in. Must be nice never doubting your welcome, she thinks, and follows after him. 

And . . . blinks. 

"Uh," Darcy says, staring at the upended living room. All the furniture is stripped bare, the cushions missing, and there's random blankets and pillows dumped everywhere. It is super, super weird. "What, if I may, the hell?" 

"Everything . . . okay, Buck?" Steve asks carefully. 

"Fine," Bucky says, folding his arms defensively. "It wasn't comfortable." 

"So you went Hurricane Bucky on its ass?" Darcy asks doubtfully. 

"Yes," he says. Well, she can't argue with that. 

"Honestly it doesn't look that comfortable _now_ ," she says frankly, because it really doesn't, and Bucky scowls. 

"I'm pregnant," he says. 

"What?" Darcy says. The line of Bucky's mouth sours. 

"I'm pregnant," he repeats. "Knocked up. Bred. Bun in the oven." 

". . . what?" Darcy tries again. 

"You're sure?" Steve asks. He looks stunned. 

"Took three tests in three days and saw Banner this morning," Bucky says testily. "He was sure." 

"You're nesting," Steve says in realization, looking around the living room. 

"No shit, Cap," Bucky says. Steve looks back to him and his expression goes so _soft_ , and Darcy just . . . cannot figure out what to say. Not at _all_. She feels like she must've misheard or something, but . . . 

"Bucky," Steve says gently, and he steps forward and kisses Bucky, who tenses for just an instant and then . . . doesn't. Steve wraps him up in his arms and Bucky clings to him roughly, gripping him tight. Darcy feels immediately and intensely like a third wheel and still has no idea what to say, much less _do_. Creeping back out the way she came is definitely not the right option, all temptation aside. 

"Congratulations?" she tries awkwardly. It’s not that she thinks it’s _not_ a congratulations moment, just she isn’t really sure what kind of moment _Bucky_ thinks it is, and also part of her is like . . . well, very selfish and dumb and thinking “is this it?” Because it might be, after all. She’s been dumped over way more minor lifestyle changes than a _baby_ , and sure Steve and Bucky have had fun with her, but—

"It's yours," Bucky says, stepping back from Steve to look at her. 

_"What?!"_ Darcy chokes. "You cannot _possibly_ know that!" 

"Conceived in January," Bucky says shortly. January, of course, being the month Steve and half the team spent sneaking around South America in pursuit of a bunch of missing old Stark-designed weapons. 

“. . . oh,” Darcy says lamely. That would . . . that would definitely be hers, then. Shit. She glances nervously at Steve, because sure, he might not be that territorial normally, but . . . 

He doesn’t _look_ bothered, at least. So that’s . . . something, she thinks. 

“Was, uh, something wrong with your birth control?” she says hesitantly, now _really_ regretting not using a condom when they’d had the chance. 

“It doesn’t work on super soldiers, apparently,” Bucky says. 

“. . . how did _no one_ think of that earlier?” 

“They did.” Bucky’s expression sours. “Stark and Banner made it for me. One of them fucked up the batch.” 

“Betting on Tony, personally,” Darcy says automatically, because Tony does things like not sleep for three days at a time and Bruce is very, _very_ careful about his experiments. Also, if it comes to it, she’d way rather yell at Iron Man than the Hulk. “Uh. Are you, like . . . okay, then?” 

“Picture of health,” Bucky says. 

“. . . but are you _okay_ ,” Darcy repeats, unable to resist pushing on it. Sue her, okay? 

“Fine,” Bucky says, then buries his face in his hands. Darcy winces. Steve lays a hand on his back. 

“Bucky,” he says in that gentle voice again. Bucky shudders. 

“Do you want to keep it?” Darcy asks, and the other two just _look_ at her. She winces again. She was _trying_ to be supportive, okay? Delicate emotional situations are not so much her strong suit, unfortunately. 

“The fuck else am I gonna do, give away a baby who might have the serum?” Bucky asks incredulously. 

“I meant, like, do you want an abortion,” Darcy says, twisting her hands together anxiously. She hadn’t even thought about the serum thing, honestly. “Because you don’t seem very, uh . . . happy. About this. I just wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t gonna be weird about it, if you did.” 

“Oh.” Bucky stares at her blankly. 

“It’s up to you,” Steve says to him, keeping his hand on his back. “If you want to keep it or not, we’re here.” 

_We are?_ Darcy thinks, slightly hysterically. Are they at that point? Is that where their relationship is? 

Well, apparently it has to be. 

“I don’t want an abortion,” Bucky says. Darcy can’t decide if that’s a relief or not, but him saying he _did_ want one might’ve been, honestly. 

“Okay,” Steve says. “What do you need, then?” 

“Your blankets,” Bucky says. “The nest doesn’t smell right.” 

“We can do that,” Steve says. Darcy is fairly certain Bucky only meant _Steve’s_ blankets since he’s not looking anywhere near her, but also is, yes, very willing to go get him hers. That’s a really minor ask, under the circumstances. She would get him all the blankets in the compound if he asked. “Anything else?” 

“I don’t know,” Bucky says. “What if it’s got the serum? What if it _doesn’t_ have the serum?” 

“It’ll be okay, Buck,” Steve says with all the damning weight of a promise. 

“Well, probably,” Darcy says, because she never can keep her stupid mouth shut but also useless platitudes are, well . . . useless, in her opinion. Which obviously is a thing Steve knows, and platitudes from him are very rarely useless. _Hers_ would be, though. “But if it’s not, we’ve got Bruce and Tony on call, if nothing else.” 

“I don’t want either of them anywhere near a baby,” Bucky says with a grimace. 

“Possibly wise,” Darcy allows with a shrug. “They _are_ pretty familiar with the serum, though, compared to most people. Like, as much as anybody not already dead can be. Definitely more than HYDRA was when they were juicing you up.” 

“Banner made the Hulk,” Bucky says. 

“Yeah, so he’s familiar with it,” Darcy says. “If shit goes south, well, we know who to talk to.” 

“Mm.” Bucky looks at her for a moment longer, then to Steve. Steve looks back at him. They have a whole conversation with just their faces, because that’s a thing they know each other well enough to do, and Darcy waits awkwardly for them to finish. It only takes a moment or two, but it’s a very long moment or two. 

She wants to be able to do that with them, she thinks. 

“It’ll be okay,” Steve says again, finally, moving his hand to Bucky’s arm to squeeze it. Bucky’s face crumples a bit and he looks at the wall. 

“Okay,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. Which is saying something, because Steve is fucking _convincing_. Seriously. 

“We’ll go get our blankets,” Steve says. “Let you build up your nest right.” 

“Actually, I just changed my sheets this morning, so . . .” Darcy remembers with a grimace. “I don’t know how useful they’d be.” 

“Bring them after you sleep on them, then,” Bucky says. 

“Um,” Darcy says. “Okay.” 

“I’ll be right back,” Steve says, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s temple and then, horrifyingly, leaving them alone. Darcy may panic slightly, although she manages not to _immediately_ blurt out anything stupid. 

“You can leave if you want to,” Bucky says. 

“I kinda do,” Darcy blurts, stupidly. Bucky shrugs and turns away, and Darcy nearly panics. Why did she say that? What kind of alpha says that?! "But that's because I'm freaking out, okay, not because I _want_ to want to!" 

"It's fine, Darcy," Bucky says. "You can leave." 

"I really should not, though," Darcy says. Bucky just shrugs again. He doesn't look at her. Darcy ducks into his line of sight, because she's pushy like that, and gives him an imploring look. "Really. I'm not going anywhere. I mean, unless you want me to, obviously, I'll obviously go somewhere if you want me to." 

"Mm," Bucky says. 

" _Do_ you want me to?" Darcy asks. 

"It doesn't matter," Bucky says, then turns on his heel and heads deeper into the apartment. Darcy follows reflexively, before thinking maybe she shouldn't. 

Well, he didn't _tell_ her to leave, sooo . . . 

"It really kinda does," Darcy says as Bucky disappears into his bedroom. She decides _not_ to barge in on his private den without invitation or reason, but does lean in a bit after him. The entire room is covered in blankets and pillows and cushions, to the point she wonders where he even _found_ this many, and it's just as much a disaster as the living room, although a disaster with much more intent behind it. At least, she can see where the nest’s been shaping up. 

Kind of. 

"So . . . nesting not going so well, then?" she asks slowly, glancing around. 

"It's hard," Bucky mutters. 

"I would expect so, yes," Darcy says. Bucky doesn't nest for heats, so she's betting he's _wildly_ out of practice, assuming he's ever had any practice at all. "Is there something I can do?" 

"I don't know," Bucky says. "Scent something, maybe." 

"I can do that," Darcy says, and falls into the room to land on a pile of pillows by the door. It's not exactly an imposition. Bucky snorts and sits down on the stripped mattress. 

"This is stupid," he says. 

"Me, or the situation in general?" Darcy asks, rolling around on the pillows for scenting-related emphasis. She's got much stronger pheromones than Steve, fortunately, so it doesn't take much. 

"All of this," Bucky says, folding his arms. "We can't do this." 

"What, you and Steve?" Darcy assumes. "I dunno, man, he seemed pretty primed for doing whatever you want." 

"I meant all of us," Bucky says. 

"Oh," Darcy says awkwardly. "Um. Well. I am _also_ primed and ready for doing whatever you want, for the record.” 

"I want you to fuck me," Bucky says. 

". . . well, I can definitely do _that_ ," Darcy says, sitting up abruptly in her pillow pile. Bucky snorts again. Darcy gets to her feet and heads over to him. He doesn't really look like he's in the mood, honestly; doesn't smell like it either. But if he's asking . . . 

She reaches out to take his hands, and he lets her. She kisses his knuckles—both sets—and he doesn't really relax, but some of the tension goes out of him anyway. It's been a couple weeks since he let her in this close, so she is definitely not gonna fuck it up now. 

"I kind of missed you, for the record," she says. 

"Sorry," he says with a grimace. "Just . . . haven't felt right lately." 

"For apparently very good reason," Darcy says, kissing his knuckles again. "It's cool, babe, don't worry about it. I don't need an apology." 

"Doesn't mean I don't owe you one," Bucky says. She shrugs, because she really doesn't need it, but if Bucky wants to give it. . . 

"Okay," she says, squeezing his hands in her own. He tilts his head in a certain familiar way, and she kisses him. This time, he relaxes. 

Okay. She can work with that. 

They kiss. Darcy reaches down to put her hands on his hips and he wraps his big strong arms around her neck. She's definitely missed this. She would've worried about it a lot more if Bucky hadn't been chasing Steve off just the same, honestly, but it feels so good to get to touch him again, and she'd still worried that maybe she wouldn't get to. 

She thinks about telling him that, but it's really not the time for semi-emotional confessions. It's _definitely_ the time for kissing, though, and she's gonna take full advantage. She pushes her hands up his sides and deepens the kiss, and Bucky tightens his grip on her and kisses back harder. It makes her feel like he missed this too, which is a nice thought. Maybe he even did. 

"I missed this," he murmurs under his breath, and huh. Go figure. 

Darcy is really, really glad to hear that. 

"I'm a good time, it's true," she says casually, because it's still definitely not semi-emotional confessions time and she already told him she missed _him_ anyway, and kisses him again. Bucky snorts, but kisses back, and she smiles against his mouth. She pushes her hands under his shirt and he pushes into the contact, then unwinds his arms from around her neck and puts his own hands under her own shirt. They feel pretty damn good there, no surprise. "Mmm, so sweet." 

Bucky snorts again and pulls her shirt up and off. Darcy thinks that's an excellent idea, and does the same for him. She resists the urge to look at his stomach, wondering if it's any softer or if he's showing at all. When do pregnant omegas start to show? She has _no_ idea. 

Well, she'll be finding out, she guesses. 

"All good?" she checks, looking at his face and careful to keep her hands away from his stomach just in case he doesn't want touched there right now. She's heard some pregnant people don't like it. Bucky's mouth twists briefly, his expression turning wry. 

"No," he says. "I asked you to fuck me, didn't I?" 

"I mean, true," she says. "Believe me, I want to be." 

"Then hurry up and do it," he says, wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her down on top of himself as he lays back against the bed. Darcy goes with it, obviously. He's warm and solid underneath her, and she takes the chance to kiss him again and gets her hands in his pants, and he pushes up into the contact. 

The bedroom door opens. Steve walks in with an armful of sheets and blankets. 

"About time," Bucky says, breaking off the kiss to eye him. Steve smiles at him. 

"Seriously, you took forever," Darcy says. "We felt abandoned." 

"You seem to have managed," Steve says. 

"No help from you, Rogers," Bucky grumbles. Steve comes over to the bed, careful not to step on anything nest-ish, and lays down his blankets next to them. 

"Do you need anything?" he says, as the least jealous alpha in the world, probably. Darcy does not consider herself either the jealous or the insecure sort, but Steve outdoes her by a mile, at least when it comes to Bucky. Which makes sense, really, she figures. They’ve only known each other for like a century. 

“No,” Bucky says. “Just get in the bed.” 

“Both of us at once isn’t too much?” Steve says, which might be a fair question after how much Bucky’s been avoiding them. 

“No,” Bucky says, and Steve sits down on the bed next to them and lays a hand on Bucky’s thigh with a tender expression that Darcy isn’t sure she should have permission to see. She’s pretty used to thoughts like that around these two, though. She really has to work on not having them so often, honestly. 

Especially now, apparently. 

“Alright,” Steve says, and jumps on the bandwagon with: “I missed you, you know?” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says. Steve leans down and kisses him. Darcy just kind of . . . pets Bucky’s side, pretty much, for lack of a better idea. He pushes into it, which is nice. Kinda makes her feel less superfluous. Not that they ever do, really; she knows that’s all about herself, not them. The other two break off their kiss, and she keeps petting Bucky’s side. 

“You two are saps,” she informs them, because certain thoughts or not she’s never been one to keep her mouth shut. “Really, sap everywhere, it’s gross, I’m going to get all sticky.” 

“You weren’t planning on getting sticky?” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow at her meaningfully. 

“Not with _sap_ ,” Darcy retorts primly, then kisses him too. If she’s allowed to, she’s doing it. Why wouldn’t she? Bucky kisses back, and they tangle themselves up a little tighter and keep kissing, which is basically Darcy’s favorite thing to happen so far today, which is _saying_ something considering Steve got her off today. Normally that kind of thing wins “favorite thing” by a mile. 

“You’re both so pretty,” Steve says, watching them with a faint smile, and Darcy leans back to cock an eyebrow at him in amusement. 

“Pretty, huh?” she says. Not many people have called her _that_. She might be a small one, but she _is_ still an alpha. 

“Pretty,” Steve repeats firmly, his smile widening just a little. Darcy huffs at him and tosses her hair. 

“Excuse you, buddy, I am _handsome_ ,” she informs him. “Maybe striking.” 

“You’re mouthy, is what you are,” Bucky grumbles, looping his hands behind her neck and tugging her down to kiss again. 

“Look who’s talking!” Darcy laughs, but she does kiss back, of course. She’s not an _idiot_. Bucky growls into the kiss, which is unbearably hot, and she kisses him harder. Because, again: of course. Of course and _obviously_. 

She puts her hands all over him, and he returns the favor. It feels as perfect as it always does, with Bucky. Or Steve, really. Really both of them feel perfect, even though they don’t feel very much alike at all. It’s funny, kind of, though Darcy doesn’t usually think about it too much. She doesn’t want to get, like . . . carried away. 

She’s already gotten kind of carried away, honestly. 

Well, she has been for a while, if she’s going to be honest about it. 

“Darcy,” Bucky murmurs, and Darcy strokes his naked ribs and kisses his jaw and goes warm and liquid under his hands. He sighs, and she kisses it out of his mouth. Steve rumbles softly. It’s nice to hear, though it doesn’t make her shiver the same way it does Bucky. Bucky kisses her harder and she kisses back just the same, and Steve watches them kind of . . . affectionately, Darcy wants to say, although she’s not exactly staring at his face or anything. She’s, like . . . distracted. 

Obviously. 

Bucky tugs at her jeans, and she unzips them and kicks them off, then drags his sweatpants off too and drops a kiss to his stomach unthinkingly. It’s a reflex, and after she’s done it she realizes it might be a little bit more intimate a reflex than she’d meant it to be, considering . . . yeah, well. Everything. 

Bucky doesn’t act like it is, though, so she just tosses his sweats aside and moves back up to kiss him again and he winds around her and pulls her down closer. 

“Inside me,” he says lowly. 

“Oh, trust me, that’s happening,” she says, and they kiss again and again and he wraps a hand around her clit and she gets her fingers on his cock and it is really, _really_ good. She can’t stop thinking about the fact that she’s never been in one of his nests before. She wonders if Bucky’s ever nested before at all, the way he’s clearly stressing out about the process. 

She wonders what to say about it, if he’s really never nested before. 

She kisses him. He spreads his thighs and guides her inside him, and she fucks him with slow, steady thrusts. She tries not to mess up his mess of a nest, which is probably not working but she does her best with all the same. Steve lays down next to them and strokes Bucky’s chest and stomach and kisses him too, and Bucky moans. It’s a very, very nice moan. 

Darcy could really get used to this, she thinks. Or maybe she’s a little too used to it already. 

Maybe that’s okay, though, she thinks for maybe the first time, remembering the way Bucky talked about the group of them like it was a foregone conclusion, and not something temporary. Darcy doesn’t _want_ them to be something temporary, but she’s never been in the kind of relationship that wasn’t very obviously so, and now . . . 

Yeah. Well. 

She watches Steve and Bucky kiss, and she fucks Bucky and runs a hand up Steve’s side, and the two of them make low, pleased noises and kiss harder. It’s a nice sight. Darcy’s _definitely_ too used to it. 

She’d be really happy to get to stay that way. 

Bucky tenses up and comes gasping into Steve’s mouth, clutching at Darcy’s back, and Darcy fills him up tight and he locks down around her knot. She groans. He purrs, body soft and receptive underneath her, and she half-collapses on top of him. She’d avoid that, but: super-soldier. Her weight is seriously not even a thing, so far as Bucky’s concerned. 

She _is_ really careful not to come down too heavily on his stomach or anything, though. 

Obviously. 

Bucky sighs, burying his face in her hair. She strokes his side, and Steve kisses his throat. 

“Good?” Steve asks. 

“You could’ve touched me more,” Bucky murmurs, cracking open an eye to glance over at him. Steve smiles. 

“I always want to touch you more,” he says, working a hand down between their bodies to get at Bucky’s cock. Bucky moans, somehow clutching up even _tighter_ around Darcy’s knot, and she grunts breathlessly. 

“You are a menace of an alpha,” she accuses, and Steve chuckles quietly and doesn’t stop. Bucky keeps moaning. Darcy . . . well, it’s not exactly an _imposition_ to be stuck on top of the two most gorgeous bastards she knows. Even if they are bastards. 

Steve makes Bucky come again, and Bucky does, panting and moaning and cursing. He’s . . . _really_ beautiful, some distant part of Darcy takes the moment to notice. The rest of her is a bit occupied with the way Bucky’s clinging to—and locked around—her, which is _also_ pretty beautiful, actually. 

“Do you want to get off?” she asks Steve while Bucky’s recovering, speaking of things that are beautiful, and he hums and shakes his head. 

“I’m fine,” he says, which isn’t actually a “no” but of course it _is_ Steve she’s asking this question. Of course. 

“You’d be ‘fine’ if the building was on fire,” Bucky snorts dubiously, and Steve chuckles. 

“Really, I am,” he says, then drops a kiss against Bucky’s temple. Bucky grunts, grabbing the back of his shirt and biting the corner of his jaw in return. He doesn’t push it, though, and neither does Darcy. Steve likes to deny himself things, for all his Steve reasons, but trampling over what he says isn’t exactly the way to handle that. 

Still, Darcy’d much rather touch him than anything else. 

“You’re hopeless,” she says with a sigh, folding her arms on Bucky’s chest. 

“It’s not that,” Steve says, shaking his head again. “We just can’t stay much longer. I told the others I’d help them out with a few things.” 

“Annnd I have Jane-duty tonight and a ridiculous amount of prep work for that to do. Plus I need a nap before it,” Darcy says, making a face. Not that she minds Jane-duty, generally, just generally Jane-duty doesn’t involve leaving her newly pregnant datemate alone in his half-finished nest. Also, letting Steve get away with not getting taken care of. 

“All night?” Bucky says. 

“Unfortunately,” Darcy says. She sighs again, then carefully pulls her softening knot out of Bucky and lays down on his other side. “Sorry. I know it’s not _great_ timing for that, all things considered. Like . . . really terrible timing, all things considered.” 

“It’s fine,” Bucky says. He rests a hand on his stomach, maybe even on purpose. Steve covers the back of it with his own, and Darcy looks at both of them and just . . . feels things. A whole lot of things. 

Too much to say, really, but she figures she’ll figure out how to one of these days. 

“Breakfast?” she suggests, and the other two give her puzzled looks. “In the morning, I mean. _I’m_ free, at least. We can meet up here again, if that’s okay. I’ll bring some Pop-Tarts. Or, you know, like. Real food.” 

“Oh,” Steve realizes. “Yeah. I can do breakfast.” 

“Sure,” Bucky says, glancing between them. Darcy shifts up to kiss his cheek, wrapping an arm around him. 

“We’ll bring you some more nesting stuff too, yeah?” she offers. That’s a lot easier than explaining how she feels, after all. She’ll strip every bed in the damn complex if she’s gotta. 

“I hate nesting,” Bucky says. 

“You don’t have to,” Steve points out, and Bucky scowls at him. 

“I can _do_ it,” he says. “It just sucks.” 

“An entirely fair assessment,” Darcy says, eyeing the wreckage of his den. It . . . it is pretty wrecked, yeah. “Do you want, like, help?” 

“. . . maybe,” Bucky says, his expression turning contemplative. 

“We don’t have to leave _right_ this minute,” Darcy says. “At least, I don’t. We could take a quick shower and then, you know, do some nest-building.” 

“I do have a little time,” Steve agrees. “If that sounds good to you.” 

“Are you sure?” Bucky says, frowning faintly. 

“I always have time for you,” Steve says, and Darcy is seriously jealous of his capacity to just _say_ things. She wants to be more like that. 

Well, usually she _is_ more like that. 

“I can find some, at least,” she says. She was going to take a nap before star-duty, like she said, buuut . . . well, she’ll live without one. She’s young, she’s tough, and energy drinks exist. 

So many energy drinks. For real. 

“You don’t have to,” Bucky says. “I can work it out on my own.” 

“You don’t have to,” Darcy says, and the other two just kind of . . . look at her, just for a moment. She’s not really sure what that’s about, but neither of them looks _mad_ or anything, just . . . well, they’re looking at her. 

Okay. 

“Just saying,” she says. “Obviously. I mean, there’s three of us, you might as well take advantage of the extra hands. Gonna need ‘em sooner or later.” 

“You really want to help me build a nest?” Bucky says. 

“I can think of very little I would rather do, and it all involves you and Steve anyway,” Darcy says with a shrug. “Might as well be useful about it.” 

“Alright.” Bucky looks at her for a moment longer, then at Steve. Steve kisses him again, just briefly. 

“You two take the shower first,” he says. “I’ll start sorting things in here, okay? Maybe look up some nest-building techniques.” 

“. . . yeah, okay,” Bucky says after a moment, and Darcy pushes herself up. Bucky looks a little overwhelmed—not in the sexy way like she’s used to, just like . . . in general. She kisses him too, because it seems like the thing to do, and he seems to settle. 

Darcy still really doesn’t have the words for any of this, but . . . well. She’s got time, doesn’t she. Nine months and then some, apparently, which is definitely going to take a while to sink in and she still isn’t sure how to wrap her head fully around, but is definitely going to do everything she can to. 

“Sounds good to me,” she says anyway, because everything they say does. And anyway, she’d do a lot more than just help them build a nest. Maybe one of these days she’ll even manage to tell them that. 

And until she can, well . . . there’s other things she can do.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://suzukiblu.tumblr.com/)


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